


But I Still Feel You

by pensversusswords



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alcohol Use (Mentioned), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Injuries (Non-Graphic), Oblivious Steve Rogers, Pining, Pining Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: Tony knows a lot of things about Steve. He knows that Steve is a stubborn pain in the ass, he knows that he's got a heart of gold, and he knows Steve would rather punch his way out of a tricky situation than talk himself out of it. But the one thing Tony knows the most: he's hopelessly, tragically in love with Steve. In which Tony is impulsive, Steve is confused, and they work it out in the end. Eventually.





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> For @ishipallthings on tumblr. <3
> 
> Title from Fire And The Flood by Vance Joy.

Tony Stark knows a lot of things about Steve Rogers.

Firstly, he knows that the stubborn pain in the ass was adopted by the Barnes family when he was scrawny and twelve years old. The day he moved into their house down the street from Tony’s was the day that Steve started causing Tony trouble, and he hasn’t stopped since.

He knows that Steve would rather punch his way out of a situation than talk his way out of it, because Steve isn’t used to anyone listening to a tiny, bony kid who looks like he could get knocked over by the tiniest gust of wind.

Tony is pretty sure that the fact that the two of them bickered relentlessly for years was mostly his own fault, but Steve has always been stubborn and bull headed, so the juries still out on that one. He’d say that the blame rests on both of them.

Except for that one time Steve pushed him into a lake. _That_ one was completely Steve’s fault and he’s resolved to hold it against him for the rest of eternity.

He knows that it took them both a long time to come around to each other; years of pointless bickering and antagonizing each other, until the beginning of the summer after they graduated. Finding Steve walking home in a downpour, clutching a tattered sketchbook to his chest like it was a lifeline was not how he expected their friendship to begin, but with Steve sitting in his passenger seat, brushing his sopping wet hair out of his face, he’d felt compelled to ask him what was in the sketchbook he had carefully cradled in his lap.

Tony still remembers vividly the tentative and curious expression on Steve in that moment, and the hesitant way that he began to talk about what he’d been drawing; a birds’ nest nestled in a bush near where he’d been sitting.

He remembers that moment so vividly because it was the first time that Steve looked at him with a face that was soft and directed at Tony, enough so that Tony could pretend that his expression in that moment belonged to him alone.

Their friendship didn’t happen all at once, but it did start there. Hesitant and careful like explorers trekking through a new landscape, awed and yet still wary of unknown dangers that might appear at any given moment. They argued still, yes, but throughout that summer they grew close, and even when they bickered, their arguments were inundated with the tentative fondness that grew between them.

Tony knows that when he decided that he wasn’t going to work for his father, and was going to go off to university with Steve, Bucky and Natasha, Steve was inordinately proud of him. He knows this because Steve grabbed him with his newly-muscled arms and hugged Tony so tightly that his feet lifted off of the floor for a good ten seconds. Tony remembers squirming and insisting that Steve put him down immediately, but also feeling a glowing warmth bloom in his chest. He remembers relaxing into Steve’s hug for a short moment, indulging in his desire for Steve’s warm affection just for that short space of time.

Of course, there’s one last thing Tony knows.

He knows beyond any glimmer of a doubt that he started falling in love with Steve Rogers the moment he first laid eyes on his blue eyes like the windswept sea, and hair like freshly shorn wheat, and he hasn’t stopped falling in love with him since.

It only gets worse once the summer ends and they go to college. Spending the summer with Steve felt like some kind of ethereal in-between time, a space they found in the cracks that ran through the endless plain of real life. For those months when they spent days together, Tony had more of Steve than he ever thought possible, and it was perfect. A part of him hopes that the ache in his chest will go away when they’re back to reality, and not spending hazy, hot afternoons with each other under the sun.

Unfortunately, when they go off to college, it is very decidedly real life, and Tony finds that he loves Steve just as much under the dim, tired lighting in the library when he’s determinedly practicing in his sketchbook, as he did under the light of the summer sun that lit Steve’s hair like a golden halo.  

It’s Steve he’s in love with. That becomes even more painfully obvious when they are at school together.

It’s all right though, because Tony has more of Steve than he ever thought he would. He misses Rhodey, who decided on a different school in a different state when they offered him a pretty prestigious scholarship, but he has friends. Tony almost dares to say that almost feels like a part of a friend group.

He ends up with a soft spoken fellow science student named Bruce for a roommate. They hit it off immediately and Tony is eternally grateful for having a roommate that has such a calming presence, and understands Tony’s rambling when he comes home with a problem he couldn’t work out in the lab. It doesn’t take long for Tony to consider him a friend, and Bruce is so genuine that he actually believes that he doesn’t think Tony is so bad himself. There is the matter of Bruce’s nightmares that keep him up some nights, but Steve lets him sleep in his and Sam’s room when it gets to be too much.

Bucky and Natasha are a package deal, so Tony sees the two of them all the time. When Bucky isn’t with Natasha, he’s often with Steve, which means Tony barely escapes him. Tony doesn’t mind it so much—they get along pretty well these days anyways.

Tony likes Steve’s roommate a heck of a lot; Sam is kind and has a great laugh, but sarcastic enough to give Tony a run for his money. He cares about Steve too, so that’s always a bonus in Tony’s book.

(No, he doesn’t get jealous of Sam. Usually. Once in a while, maybe, but no one needs to know that.)

Thor and Jane also tend to come as a package deal. Jane will talk physics with him, and Thor has endless enthusiasm for anything and everything. He does have a habit of clapping people on the back when he’s excited—he almost knocked Tony over one day like that and he’s sure he’s not the first—but he’s warm and kind and easy to be around.

Then there’s Clint, who’s a bit of a handful and drives him insane on the best of days with his so called sense of humor. He only sees him on occasion, and according to Natasha this is because he’s always either practicing with an archery club or he’s hibernating in his room in sweatpants, pizza and cartoons.

On top of all of that, he meets Rumiko Fujikawa not long into the first semester, and for a while, everything is good. Tony meets her in the science building parking lot, where she’s trying desperately to get her bike going again. All it takes was for her to throw her head back and laugh at something snarky and sarcastic he said, and that was it, he was head over heels. Tony had given her his brightest, most charming smile, and asked her to go out with him that night. She rolls her eyes and writes her number on his arm, tells him she’ll pick him up at seven and to text her the address.

She picks him up at seven fifteen, passes him a second helmet and speeds off fast enough to make Tony’s heart lurch in his chest. It’s the best date Tony has ever been on.

He genuinely, honestly likes her. She makes him laugh, she’s sexy and has a good heart, and he loves every minute he spends with her.

It doesn’t last—neither of them are quite ready for a relationship, no matter how much they like each other—but Tony loves every minute that he gets to spend with her. For a while, with her, he’s thought that he would be able to get over Steve. But then they break up, and Tony finds himself still madly in love with Steve Rogers. He curses that beautiful, kind hearted jerk for holding his heart so tightly in his hands, but at the same time, he can’t find it in himself to be mad.

Tony resolves to love Steve silently and patiently. A part of him hopes that some day it could work out between them, but then he tells himself to get back to reality. Steve is out of reach, and he has to accept it.

Even so, Tony has a group of friends, and that makes the whole unrequited love thing a little bit easier. He knows it sounds kind of lame, but they’re his support system, his _family_ , and it makes all the difference. Sure, he wants Steve more than anything he’s ever wanted in his entire life, but he’s not alone. He’d been scared that he would be when he came to university, so he’s happy that it seems as though that is not the case.

And, well, he has Steve in his life, and honestly what more can he ask for?

He figures he’s lucky enough to have that much.

***

The night before everything changes between them is painfully normal.  

One of the best things about having Steve living just down the hall is that when his roommate wakes Tony up with his loud nightmares, he has somewhere to go. Tony had tried the whole waking him up thing, but apparently waking Bruce up when he’s tossing and turning like he’s possessed at three in the morning is a horrible idea. Meek, mild mannered Bruce emerging out of a nightmare is a sight to behold, and not in a good way. Tony is still uncertain how that much unadulterated fury can fit inside one relatively small person, but Bruce felt bad enough about it the next morning that Tony promised him that he would never do it again.

After that first night, Bruce had attempted to convince Tony that maybe he should room by himself so that he doesn’t bother him, but Tony had managed to convince him otherwise. Firstly, Tony was often up late anyways. Genius never slept, he likes to say. Secondly, Steve lived just down the hall and what were best friends for if you couldn’t crash in their room when your roommate was having a loud, horrifying nightmare?

It doesn’t happen often or anything, but its frequent enough that one night Tony is sitting at his desk with his lamp shining dimly on his physics homework, and he’s not even surprised when he hears low pitched growling noises from Bruce’s side of the room.

Sighing, he flicks the lamp off, grabs his textbook and tablet, glances at the clock. It’s just after one am, too early for him to feel the need to turn in for the night, but late enough that he can’t really head to the library. Well, he could, but why would he when Steve was just down the hall?

He pulls the duvet off of his bed, tosses it over his shoulders and creeps out of the room, closing the door gently behind him as he leaves and heads down the hall.

Making sure to keep as quiet as possible, he knocks on Steve’s door.

Steve answers the door in a plain white t-shirt, plaid pyjama pants and socked feet. He yawns and blinks sleepily at Tony, which Tony desperately tries to tell himself doesn’t make his insides feel all melt-y and warm.

(It does, but no one else needs to know that.)

“Bruce having nightmares again?” Steve whispers.

Tony nods.

Silently, Steve steps aside and gestures for Tony to come inside.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, his voice still thick and raspy with sleep.

“I’ll be quiet,” Tony mumbles, only half paying attention. He’s pulling Steve’s desk chair out and sitting down. He’s got his textbook open in front of him again—he wants to finish reading it cover to cover before he goes to sleep. He can’t imagine it will take him too long, he’ll finish long before his eyes start drooping and he starts to feel his mind getting fuzzy.

He’s two sentences into the first paragraph of the first page when there’s a soft rustling from behind him and a presence appears at his back.

Tony has barely registered this when a hand reaches over his shoulder, plucks the textbook out of his hand and shuts it with a dull thump.

“Hey!” Tony turns around in the chair to glare up at the culprit. “I was reading that.”

“I am aware,” Steve says darkly, matching Tony’s glare. “And you can finish reading it tomorrow at a more decent hour after you’ve slept.”

“You can’t _make_ me sleep.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. Tony’s textbook is still in Steve’s hand, which means it ends up tucked in between his torso and his bicep.

“No, but I can prevent you from doing anything that would make you want to stay awake.”

“I have homework, Steve. You’re keeping me from educating myself.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You told me just yesterday that you’re weeks ahead of the syllabus for that course. You don’t have homework, and even if you did, there’s no reason you would have to do it at one in the morning.”

“But—“

“Okay, new rule.” Steve turns and walks over to his bedside table and slips the book inside the top drawer. “No homework in my room after midnight or you sleep in your own room.”

“Steve,” Tony whines. “Bruce is making those awful noises again and if I wake up he’ll try to bite my head off.”

Steve yawns and shrugs, completely nonplussed. “Then I guess you’re going to have to listen to me and go to sleep, huh?”

“Tony, we have this argument every time you come over. There’s no point in trying to fight me on this one.”

“If you two don’t shut the hell up right now, _neither of you_ are sleeping in here.”

The grumpy, tired voice that interrupts their little discussion makes both of them jump, and then wince. Tony had been trying to keep quiet, but somewhere along the way he had kind of forgotten that Sam was asleep in the room as well.

“Sorry Sam,” Steve whispers.

He gets a displeased grunt in reply.

Turning back to face Tony, Steve narrows his eyes at him in quiet disapproval.

“Right, that’s it.”

Before Tony can even blink, he finds himself airborne as Steve hefts him up with one arm, duvet and all, and carries him across the room. He unceremoniously drops Tony onto the bed, who makes a rather undignified _oof_ sound at the point of impact.

“Steve I don’t want to steal your bed—“ Tony hisses, but stops abruptly when Steve starts to _get into the bed with him._

“The bed is small but it’s big enough for the two of us,” Steve reasons, as if this is not a big deal in the slightest. As if Tony’s brain hasn’t been overcome with a screeching static, blanked out with white noise. “I’ll sleep on the floor if you want,” Steve continues, his eyes earnest and bright like midday sky in the dim light of the room. “But last time I got an awful crick in my neck and I’d rather avoid that if possible.”

“No, uh.” Tony pauses, clears his throat. He doesn’t remember that one time with much fondness—they used to have an inflatable mattress that they pulled out on nights like this, but it recently met its own tragic end thanks to Clint and Bucky, who still refuse to give the full story on how they managed to scorch a hole in it. That first night after the incident when Tony showed up at Steve’s door, Steve’s stubbornness had won out in the end, and Tony had ended up taking the bed while Steve slept on the floor. Even though Steve insisted that it was fine, Tony had spent the night staring up at the ceiling and feeling guilty over the fact that Steve was laying a few feet away from him on the cold, hard floor. He wasn’t exactly wishing for a repeat of that. “We can share. No big deal,” he says now, because what else can he say?

 _It’s very much a big deal_ , Tony’s mind screams at him. He tries his hardest to banish the thoughts—the last thing he needs is for Steve to notice how weird he’s being about the whole situation. They’re just two friends sharing a mattress. No big deal.

“Good.” Steve smiles. He turns over and reaches for the lamp beside his bed and switches it off before settling down with his head on the other end of the pillow. “Good night, Tony.”

“Good night,” Tony whispers back.

It takes approximately an hour for Tony’s heart to settle down in his chest and for his thoughts to calm down enough for him to drift off to sleep.

Tony wakes up a few hours later when it’s still dark, with an overpowering urge to reach out and touch, but he stops himself with his fingers in mid air, because Steve is fast asleep next to him and he doesn’t want to break the peaceful silence of the moment.

He rolls over and falls back asleep, faint warmth at his back from the solid presence mere inches away from him.

***

Of course, because just as it always has been in Tony’s life, the very next day is when Tony’s entire world crumbles around him in the blink of an eye.

Without even really thinking about it, he makes his way to Steve’s room with excitement bubbling in his chest, and his newest accomplishment clutched tightly in one fist. He’d been working on this project for weeks, and it’s finally starting to pay off. Of course, the first thing Tony thinks to do is to run back to the dorms and tell Steve immediately.

He opens the door, and the words he was about to exclaim stick painfully in his throat, because Steve is sitting on his bed with a beautiful girl with dark hair and red lipstick, their heads bent together as they shake with quiet laughter.

They look up in surprise when Tony blusters in, and it only takes Steve a moment to smile at his entrance.

“Tony!” he says, in that way that he always does, like he might actually be happy to see Tony. Sometimes, Tony even believes it. “I thought you were busy working in the lab all day?”

Tony hardly hears him, because his eyes are glued on the space between Steve’s and the girl’s thighs. Or, the lack of space, to be more specific.

They look comfortable together, enough so that Tony has a fleeting thought that he should probably know who this girl is. Steve is one of his best friends in the world, and Tony feels hurt flutter briefly in his chest at the fact that he was close enough to this girl to look this comfortable being so close to her. Steve’s a friendly guy, but he doesn’t often invite people up to his room and get this comfortable with them.

Then, Tony feels his chest constrict a little bit, because, well. They’re both flushed from laughter and leaning into each other’s space in a way that Tony is sure Steve never does with him.

Very suddenly, Tony feels a bit nauseous and like the room is way too warm. 

Luckily, Tony is a Stark, which means he’s been trained for his whole life to be able to put on a charming smile to cover up whatever he’s feeling at that exact moment.

So, he straightens up, wipes the surprised and dismay off of his face, and flashes the two of them his million-watt smile.

“Didn’t realize you had company, Steve,” Tony says smoothly. “Sorry for barging in, I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

Tony’s just about to turn and leave the room when Steve stands quickly and reaches a hand out towards him. “Tony! Wait, don’t go. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to Peggy for a while now.”

Tony stands his ground, gritting his teeth together behind a tight lipped smile. He knows how to smile when he doesn’t feel like he can, but right now he isn’t sure that it looks like anything other than a grimace. He hopes it looks better than it feels on his face. “Hey Peggy, what are you doing hanging out with this big lug?”

Peggy smiles, open and friendly. “The same as you, I suppose.” Her voice is as beautiful as she is, words lilting elegantly over her accent. Everything about her is lovely. Tony wants to throw up.

Tony forces out a laugh. “Touché. Anyways, I wasn’t lying, I’m really busy so I’ll see you guys around.”

With that, he pivots on his heel and dashes out of the room, ignoring Steve calling his name behind him as he takes off.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Steve would meet someone eventually, Tony has known this for forever. Steve is handsome, but even more than that, he is kind and genuine. A stubborn pain in the ass, yes, but all the same, he’s a catch. It was only a matter of time before a pretty girl with kind eyes snatched him up and make him happy.

Tony wants Steve to be happy, but of course the selfish part of him desperately wishes for Steve to be happy with _him_.

The second he gets back to his dorm, Tony flops onto his bed and calls Rhodey. He hardly even thinks about it; he just fumbles for his phone and finds Rhodey’s name in a daze.

“Tony, it is three in the morning here and I have class in the morning. This had better be important.” Rhodey answers the phone with the kind of sleepy grogginess that doesn’t exactly give his words a whole lot of heat.

Tony feels himself sink into his bed with relief at the sound of his best friend’s voice. “Hello to you too, grumpy.”

“I’m allowed to be grumpy if you call me before sunrise,” Rhodey grunts. “What’s going on, Tony?”

“What, something has to be going on for me to want to call my favourite person in the world? I’m offended.”

“It does when it’s three in the morning.”

“Aw Rhodey-bear, honey. Don’t lie, you missed me too.”

“Tony.”

Tony hesitates for a long moment before speaking again. “It’s nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be nothing or you wouldn’t be calling me sounding like you’re about to cry.”

“I’m not going to cry, _god_ Rhodey.”

“Good. Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”

Tony stays silent for a long moment. He doesn’t really know how to say it.

“Tony?”

He sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut. “I think he has a girlfriend, Rhodey.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the call. Then, in a voice that’s much gentler and alert than before, “Give me ten minutes. I’ll Skype you.”

Tony spends those ten minutes staring at his laptop screen, waiting for the familiar ringing sound.

It takes nine minutes—not that Tony’s counting or anything—and he answers on the first ring.

“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out the instant Rhodey’s face comes into view.

“You’re not an idiot,” Rhodey sighs. He’s wearing pyjamas and is curled up on a couch in what Tony recognizes as the common room on his floor. Right. It’s three in the morning there and Rhodey has a roommate. Tony winces; he really is an idiot. And a bad friend. He’ll have to make it up to him somehow.

“You aren’t,” Rhodey insists in response to Tony’s expression. “Now tell me. Why do you think he has a girlfriend?”

So, Tony launches into a description of the scene he’d walked into earlier that had sent him scrambling for the door, his heart in his throat. He recounts what he’d seen with his chest tight, a lump growing in his throat as he's forced to relieve that moment over again. 

When he finishes, Rhodey just blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” Tony exclaims, throwing his hands in the air and very nearly sending his laptop flying onto the floor. He catches it just in time and glares at Rhodey through the camera. “Didn’t you hear any of what I just told you?”

“Yes,” Rhodey says, thoroughly unimpressed. “It sounds like you walked in on two friends hanging out.”

“Two friends who were probably just about to start devouring each other’s faces.”

“Ew. Why would you describe it like that. Christ, Tones. Besides, I seriously doubt it. Come on, Tony. They had the door open.”

“Maybe they were so into it that they forgot to close it.”

Rhodey sighs. Tony falls silent and starts examining a stray thread in his sweater.

“Tony,” Rhodey says softly. “I think you might be overreacting.”

Tony doesn’t respond.

This still isn’t easy for him to talk about, even if it’s Rhodey he’s telling. It had taken him months of pining for Steve for him to finally admit it to Rhodey, and even then it had taken some coaxing from his best friend. Tony hadn’t wanted it to be real. He didn’t want to be in love with someone who was so far out of his league. Steve is a stubborn asshole sometimes, sure, but he has a good heart and he genuinely cares about all of the people in his life.

Not to mention he’s drop dead gorgeous. The blond hair, blue eyes and the perfect curve of his ass were enough on their own to put him out of Tony’s league.

He just has to go and be a damn good person on top of it all.

So he isn’t a fan of talking about it, not even with Rhodey, but Rhodey is the only one he _would_ talk to about it.

(Granted, that was the case with a lot of things. Tony often thought that Rhodey knew more about Tony than Tony knew about himself.)

“You now what might make this easier?” Rhodey sighs. Tony can practically hear him rubbing his face in exasperation. “If you told him how you feel instead of freaking out every single time he shows the slightest bit of interest in someone. You’re going to drive yourself crazy. And if you drive yourself crazy, that means I’m going to go crazy.”

“You know I can’t do that, Rhodey.”

“No, I know you _think_ that you can’t do it.”

“He’s not going to feel the same way and it will make everything weird!”

“Please,” Rhodey snorts. “You’re literally wearing his sweater right now, Tony.”

Tony’s gaze drops down the hoodie that he’d grabbed on his way out of his room earlier, before running to Steve’s room. It is, in fact, Steve’s sweater. Steve had let him borrow it a few days ago when they were walking to class together and he’d noticed that Tony was shivering a little bit. Tony had insisted that no, he couldn’t take it from Steve because then he’d be cold himself, but the whole time he’d been trying his hardest to stare longingly at the sweater.

Pulling it on and wearing it for the day, Tony may have stupidly allowed himself to pretend that he was wearing his boyfriend’s sweater.

And if he very conveniently “forgot” to give it back to Steve later that day, who would blame him? He’s been in love with Steve for months now; surely he could indulge himself in this small thing.

Tony decides to feign innocence, even though he can feel the flush spreading across his cheeks. “How do you know this is his sweater? Maybe it’s mine. Or Bruce’s.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Because it’s at least three sizes too big for you and there’s a paint stain on the sleeve. So unless you or Bruce buy your clothes way too big and have abandoned the pursuit of science for art, that’s Steve’s sweater.”

Tony huffs. “It’s just a sweater, it means nothing,” he mumbles.

Rhodey shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Answer me this Tony; if Steve came to you one day and told you that he was dating this girl and you had to be polite and happy for them, while knowing that you never did anything about your massive crush on him… how would you feel?”

Tony stays silent, but he feels his forehead involuntarily crease into a frown. He wants Steve to be happy, yes, but the selfish part of him—the part of him that is hopelessly in love with his best friend—wants Steve to be happy with _him_.

“Exactly,” Rhodey says.

“I didn’t say anything,” Tony protests feebly.

“Please Tony, I can see your face.” Rhodey waves him off and continues. “My point is, not knowing is going to kill you. Maybe it won’t go well, I can’t tell you one way or another. All I know is that keeping it a secret is going to kill you, you’re wearing his sweater and he loves you, whether its romantic or not.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Rhodey’s mouth twists into a small, sympathetic smile before he speaks. “You’re going to have to tell him how you feel.”

Tony groans and drops his face into his hands. That is _not_ the answer he was hoping for. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can,” Rhodey counters.

“It would ruin everything,” Tony says forlornly. It would. Steve would reject him and then he’d never be able to look at him the same way again.

“No it won’t.”

“Rhodey—“

“Tony, listen to me. The worst that could happen is that Steve says he likes you just as a friend when you tell him. In that case, you can just tell them that you need some time to get over him. Then, you take some space. Or, he returns your feelings and you start dating.”

Tony snorts with disbelief and shoots Rhodey a look. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You’re his friend. He already cares about you Tony, it’s not unrealistic to think that he might feel the same way about you.”

Tony doesn’t answer. Rhodey sighs.

“The not knowing is going to be the death of us both,” he continues. “You have to tell him.” He stifles a yawn with the back of his hand and Tony winces again. He shouldn’t be keeping Rhodey up.

“I’ll think about it,” Tony concedes quietly. “Go to sleep, platypus.”

“You’re the one who woke me up,” Rhodey grumbles, but he doesn’t argue. “You’re going to be fine Tony, I promise. Just talk to him.”

Tony nods, forces a smile, and waves at the screen. Rhodey waves back, and the screen blinks out.

***

It’s a few days after the Peggy incident when Bucky Barnes corners Tony on his way back from class, standing in front of him with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at Tony.

Tony stops dead in his tracks. “Um. Hi?”

Bucky glares.

“Look,” Tony sighs, “your imitation of a brick wall is getting in between me and my mid morning coffee, and that’s not going to end well for anyone. What do you want?”

Bucky grunts. His lack of concern would be astounding if Tony wasn’t already so used to him.

“You have to talk to him,” Bucky says.

Tony blinks. “To… who? About what?”

“Don’t play dumb. You need to tell Steve that you’re in love with him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony hisses. He has a sudden urge to leap forward and clamp a hand over Bucky’s mouth, but he manages to resist. However, he isn’t able to stop himself from looking around frantically to see if anyone else was around to hear it. Thankfully they were pretty much alone, and anyone who was nearby was too preoccupied with running to class or typing away furiously on their laptops. “Could you maybe not scream that in public?”

“Sure, but everyone knows already. Except for Steve. Who you need to tell.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “I’m not going to tell him.”

Bucky shrugs. “Okay. Then he’s probably going to ask Peggy out.”

Despite himself, Tony winces. He wasn’t prepared for Bucky’s bluntness. “As long as he’s happy, that’s all that matters,” he grits out.

Bucky assesses him for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “Look,” he says, setting one hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You really ought to talk to him, okay? He would want to know.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Why do you care?”

Bucky shrugs. “He’s my best friend. You’re his friend. If you would make him happy, then I don’t want him to miss out because you were too chicken shit to say anything about it.”

“Jeez, why don’t you tell me how you feel, Barnes?”

“I’m just telling it like it is.”

“Yeah I noticed. If I agree to consider talking to him, will you get out of my way and let me go get my coffee?”

Bucky doesn’t look happy about it, but he only glares for a few moments longer, before stepping aside to let Tony pass.

***

Against his better judgement and his sense of self preservation, Tony starts thinking about it.

He blames Bucky and Rhodey for getting in his head and planting ideas in there. Never before had Tony actually thought that talking to Steve about his feelings was a good idea but… well.

Though he only admits it begrudgingly and once in a blue moon, Rhodey usually knows what he’s talking about. In fact, Tony is pretty sure that if he gave Rhodey free reign over his life, he’d probably make better choices than Tony left, right and center. And Bucky knows Steve better than anyone. They’re brothers, and Tony knows that Steve trusts him with his entire life.

Bucky might piss him every so often, but he and Tony are friends too and Tony is pretty sure that he wouldn’t lead him astray in such a cruel way. _Almost_ sure. Of course there’s a niggling doubt at the back of his mind, but ultimately he squashes it. With some effort, yes, but he manages.

So… he’s thinking about it. A _lot_.

Tony turns the idea over relentlessly in his head, examining every facet and weighing the pros and cons against each other. He thinks about the fallout that would follow if he told Steve and he didn’t return his feelings. He thinks about what it would be like if Steve returned his feelings in the same way (an improbability, Tony surmises, and he tries not to think about it too much because it makes his heart ache).

He thinks about what it would be like to hear Steve say that he wants him back. Briefly, he entertains the idea that maybe Steve will feel the same way, and he thinks about what it would be like to be with him, to hold his hand and have endless opportunities to kiss him and make him laugh and…

He doesn’t let himself think about that too much. That’s dangerous territory, a minefield of heartbreak that Tony is not ready to deal with.

In the end though, Tony doesn’t make a decision. He doesn’t decide whether or not to tell Steve, his mouth makes that decision for him.

For a genius, he often wants to kick himself for running his mouth. Sitting in Steve’s room, words that he’s buried under layer after layer of armour slipping out unintentionally… this isn’t the way that he wanted things to go.

This situation is why he is amenable to Rhodey taking over his life choices.

They’re studying in Steve’s room when he lets the cat out of the bag. Well, Steve is studying, judging by the fact that his brow is puckered with concentration, and he’s been staring down at one of his notebooks for the past hour.

Meanwhile, Tony has spent the evening pretending to busy on his tablet, trying to act natural while feeling absolutely anything _but_ natural. 

“So. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Tony looks up sharply at the sound of Steve’s voice. “What?”

Steve is looking down at the textbook still, but his attention has clearly shifted to Tony. He’s biting his lip like Tony has noticed that he does when he’s worried or nervous.

“You’ve been acting weird all week,” Steve says. He sighs and finally turns to Tony with a frown. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but you know you can talk to me if you want to, right?”

“No, I—“ Tony pauses, takes in a deep breath, forces himself to plaster his best charming, easygoing smile across his face. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Steve’s frown deepens.

“No, really,” Tony continues. He sets his tablet down on the bed, and folds his hands in his lap. He stares down at them, opting to direct his attention there instead of at Steve’s probing eyes. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“Tony,” Steve says. His voice is dangerously soft.

Tony swallows; his throat is so dry. When he speaks, he feels like he is croaking. “I promise, I just.”

He pauses there, and what finally pushes Tony to open his mouth and blurt it out is the image of Steve seated next to a vision with rouged lips and dark brown hair, the flash of her smile against the redness of her lipstick.

The image of Steve smiling back at her is burned into his mind as he opens his mouth and unthinkingly blurts out; “Steve, I like you.”

Tony thinks to himself in the painful moment that follows, that he may be a genius, but he is the _dumbest_ genius he has ever known.

An expression of absolute surprise flickers across Steve’s face, followed by a confused frown. “Um. I like you too, Tony.”

Tony shakes his head. There’s an endless stream of _fuck, fuck, fuck you absolute idiot_ running through his mind.

For some reason, his big mouth digs him deeper into the hole he’s put himself in. “No, I mean…” A pause. A shaky breath. “I _like_ you.”

Steve holds Tony’s meaningful gaze for a long moment, brow furrowed in confusion until finally, finally, his face lights with realization. His blue eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly in surprise.

“You mean…”

“Yup.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes.

“There we go,” Tony says, letting out a sharp, humourless laugh.

“Tony, I…” Steve stops, his mouth snapping shut.

“It’s okay,” Tony interrupts quickly, pulling on a brittle smile like armour. “You don’t have to say anything; I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. It was stupid of me. Let’s just forget about it, alright?”

“Tony,” Steve says softly, his voice taking on a soothing cadence. “It’s all right. Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Tony bites out. He’s lying through his teeth, because right now he’s pretty sure that the walls are closing in on him and he’s probably going to die from humiliation. The shock on Steve’s face, the blatant confusion etched between his brows… all of it. It’s making Tony’s stomach clench with discomfort.

“I just… I just never thought of us that way,” Steve says now, biting into his bottom lip. He’s looking down at his hands, his shoulders stiff and his mouth in a tight line. He looks uncomfortable and unsure what to do.

Tony swallows around a lump in his throat. “Yeah, I get it. No need to explain, okay? That’s pretty much what I was expecting.”

“It’s not that I don’t—“

“It’s okay.” Tony scoots to the edge of the bed and stands up, keeping his eyes firmly away from Steve’s gaze. “You don’t have to say anything alright? I understand.” He fumbles with his bag with shaky hands, fights to keep is breathing level. Tears are pricking at his eyes and he wills them away, praying that Steve won’t notice him blinking rapidly.

Steve stands too, awkward and looking like he’s not quite sure where he should put his hands. He’s standing between Tony and the door. That is a problem.

“I’ll talk to you later okay?” Tony mumbles, hitching his bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah uh… okay. Tony?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“I’m sorry. You’re my best friend, I just…”

Tony shakes his head sharply. “Just don’t, okay?” He hates the way his voice shakes, the fact that he tries to sound firm but he can’t stop himself from sounding small and sad.

“Okay,” Steve says quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees him rub at the back of his neck, a nervous tick that always comes out when Steve is stressed and unsure of himself. Tony feels bad for bringing this on Steve, for making him feel uncomfortable, but damn it he just needs to leave _right now_.

“I’ll see you around,” Tony says, trying his best to make his voice hard and shoulders past Steve and out of the room. He doesn’t look back, and Steve doesn’t call out after him.

Tony thinks that it’s probably better that way.

***

It’s in both of their best interest, Tony thinks, that he and Steve stop talking. For a while at least. Until he at least doesn’t feel gutted every time Steve’s face appears in his mind.

One thing Tony Stark is good at when he wants to be, is making himself scarce and avoiding people when it becomes necessary. It’s a skill he’s mastered after years of being in the spotlight when he doesn’t want to be, avoiding people who he knows are only using him for his money and his connections. He dodges Steve’s calls, texts Sam to tell Steve he won’t be able to meet up with him for their regular weekly coffee after their morning classes on Monday because he’s too busy working on a project, and he doesn’t show up at Steve’s door to study like he usually does whenever he can.

One night he gets back from class and he’s deep in thought over the lecture he’d just been at, and he finds himself two thirds of the way to Steve’s room before he catches himself. He turns around so sharply that he nearly trips over his own feet, and hurries towards his own room with his heart in his throat.

It’s just muscle memory, he tells himself. He’ll get over it.

It doesn’t really do anything to calm the storm raging in his chest, but it’s worth a shot.

Bruce looks up from his laptop with surprised and concerned eyes, and asks Tony what’s wrong when he stumbles back into the room. Tony elects to stay silent, shakes his head rapidly, as if he could shake the feelings out if he tried hard enough. Bruce doesn’t push, and Tony’s grateful for his quiet, calming presence, as he always is.

When he finally returns Rhodey’s calls, he gets an earful, but even he can detect the concern in Rhodey’s voice. He apologizes, like it’s his fault, and damn it, Tony hates that he feels the need to apologize. This is his own problem, born out of his own stupid, impulsive actions.

“It’s fine, Rhodey,” Tony says. His voice doesn’t wobble and he’s quite proud of that. “It’s just a silly crush, right? It’s not a big deal.”

“Tony.” Rhodey sighs. “You’re going to have to actually talk about this at some point, you know. Just saying that it isn’t a big deal doesn’t make it not a big deal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, babe,” Tony says. “I’m a genius, I think I can manage.”

“And so humble. Geniuses have feelings too, especially dark haired ones with an aptitude for engineering and dealing with their emotions poorly.”

“I do have feelings. I _feel_ that this is a pointless conversation and you should stop worrying about me.”

“I’m not—“

“Rhodey,” Tony says softly. “I’m fine, okay? I just need a bit of time.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “Okay,” he says finally. “But call me if you need me, all right? None of this going dark nonsense. And hang out with people. Don’t be a hermit.”

“Yes mom,” Tony quips.

“Shut up,” Rhodey shoots back, and Tony smiles in spite of himself. He resolves to do better about calling Rhodey—it’s likely that he’s lost Steve for good and that’s agony, but he wouldn’t make it if he lost Rhodey.

Unfortunately, the reality of Tony’s situation was this; he felt alone, he didn’t feel like he could talk to any of his friends, and even blowing stuff up in the lab wasn’t helping. Also, there was only so many times that he could get away with minor “incidents”, as Dean Fury called them, before he wasn’t able to talk himself out of trouble.

Which is why it’s a downright blessing when he runs into Rumiko.

***

He runs into Rumiko Fujikawa a week after things fall apart with Steve.

And by “runs into her”, he means that he’s walking across the quad with his headphones in, and makes an embarrassing squawking noise when he’s suddenly ambushed by a warm body throwing itself into his arms and enveloping him in a hug.

“Well, that was an awful sound!” a familiar voice exclaims. He’s greeted by Rumiko’s grinning face when she pulls back to peer up at him.

“That’s what happens when you tackle people, Ru,” Tony responds. He leans in to hug her back. “Could you maybe not try to give me a heart attack? What if I have a heart condition?”

“Your heart is fine.” Rumiko dismisses his words and pats his chest.

“Well it was, but maybe now it’s not.”

“Stop your grouching,” Rumiko laughs, and links arms with him. “You missed me right?”

“Of course I did,” Tony answers, and he means it. He’s always happy to see Rumiko. Ex girlfriend or not, she was always someone who made him smile without having to try, who was easy and fun to be around. He misses her all the time, if he’s being honest.

She pats his arm and grins up at him. “Let’s go get coffee.”

It’s not a question, and Tony simply lets himself be lead along to the nearest on campus café.

It takes just over five minutes (the time it took to order their coffee and find a seat) for Rumiko to ask why Tony’s looking so gloomy, and less than five minutes after that for Tony to find himself staring down into is mug and the entire Steve story spilling out of his mouth, like the words had been waiting to overflow and now they couldn’t be stopped even if he tried.

She listens attentively, only offering small noises of encouragement when Tony flounders, pats his arm gently, silently urging him to continue. He doesn’t exactly like talking about it, but it’s easier with Rumiko. Everything is easier with Rumiko.

When he finishes, Rumiko just gives him a long look and says “Well, no wonder you look so miserable!” which makes Tony laugh in surprise, and he shrugs self deprecatingly. She’s not wrong.

So, they talk. They talk until long after their mugs are empty, until a waitress comes around and tells the two of them that they’re closing soon, and they talk while Tony walks Rumiko back to her motorcycle. She got a place about ten minutes from campus, she tells him. He’s welcome to come over any time.

A part of him wants to swing his leg over the back of her motorcycle, cling to her and let her whisk him away, just like he used to… but he knows that it’s not a good idea. It didn’t work last time, and this is by far the worst state of mind for him to make any decisions regarding ex girlfriends. Despite what everyone thinks, Tony does have _some_ sense of self preservation.

So Rumiko zooms off with a little wave, leaving behind her a promise to text Tony as soon as possible. Tony goes back to his room and sleeps at a decent time for the first time in a while

To his surprise, Rumiko actually does text him. They make plans, and a few days later she’s picking Tony up on her motorcycle, just like old times.

“Have you stopped driving like a maniac since I last saw you?” Tony asks as he swings his leg over the back of the bike and settles into the seat behind her.

“Have pigs started flying?” she shoots back, turning her head to give him that bright grin that used to give him butterflies in his stomach. (The butterflies came from the fact that he was completely smitten with her, but also from the fact that Rumiko had a tendency to do things that made his heart race. It truly was never a dull moment with her.)

“I guess that’s pretty much what I expected.” Tony wraps his arms around her waist, leans into her just like he used to.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” She turns the bike on and revs the engine.

Tony laughs into her shoulder. “Never said I didn’t!”

“That’s the spirit,” she calls back to him, and then they’re tearing away from the curb and Tony is holding on for dear life, his heart in his throat and his body thrumming with energy from the bike and from Rumiko.

They go eat at their favourite restaurant from when they were dating. They sit close to each other and talk and talk about everything; Rumiko tells him about how she’s been doing at her father’s company, Tony tells her all about the work he’s doing in his lab. She listens to him attentively and holds on to every word, asks questions and laughs out loud when he tells her about the time a few months ago he blew something up and didn’t have eyebrows for a while. She insists on him showing her pictures and after nearly a solid hour of her pestering him, he finally gives in, which results in about thirty minutes of her laughing.

Tony finds himself laughing along with her and he remembers just how much he’s missed laughing. Before they dated, she was a good friend and someone he loved being around. He doesn’t regret dating her, not for a moment, but he does regret them not keeping in touch afterwards.

He tells her so and she responds with a knowing smile. “Me too, Tony, but you know that we both needed that time apart to get over each other. I’ve missed you, but I needed to be away from you.”

She’s right, of course she’s right. He knows that as well as she does.

They don’t kiss when Rumiko drops him off by his dorm, and Tony is glad for that. She hugs him for a long time and promises to call him again soon before driving away.

The third time they hang out, they sit on the roof of Rumiko’s apartment building and Tony stares up at the moon with gin buzzing in his veins as he tells her about Steve. She listens the whole way through without interrupting, just drinks straight out of the bottle and watches him. Tony is glad that she doesn’t interrupt while he speaks, because he thinks that if he weren’t to plow right through, he would lose his nerve pretty quickly.

She nudges him with her foot when he finishes and passes over the bottle.

“It’s his loss,” she tells him.

Tony’s laugh is cold and bitter. “I’ll take ‘things that are completely and inconceivably untrue’ for four hundred, Alex.”

“Tony Stark,” Rumiko says, her voice hard and firm. She goes up on her knees beside him and presses her hands to either side of his face, squishing his cheeks together with the palms of her hands. “You are many things and there have been times where I’ve wanted to throw you off of a roof, but you are a good person and a damn good boyfriend. Okay?”

Tony takes another swig from the bottle, relishes in the burn as it slides down his throat. “If you say so,” he says eventually. He doesn’t feel like arguing, especially not with Rumiko. Arguing with her always ends with him feeling like he’s just tried to get in a fistfight with the sun.

“I do say so. Now quit moping and enjoy this romantic rooftop picnic with me.”

Tony laughs roughly. “We have a bottle of gin and a pizza, that’s not a romantic picnic.”

“Sure it is,” she says cheerily. She flips the pizza box open between them, grabs a slice and takes a bite. “It’s a picnic for emotionally distressed and lonely former lovers. That’s the definition of romance. Now, shut up and eat your pizza.”

Tony obliges, and they don’t talk about it any more because Rumiko always seems to know that if he wants to talk about it more then he will. He doesn’t, but he finds himself curled up against her side with his head on her shoulder and that’s the best he’s felt since he walked out of Steve’s room that day that he ruined everything.

He doesn’t let himself think about that too much, though. Instead, he clings to Rumiko and listens to her talk until her voice lulls him into sleep, and for a while, he almost feels all right.


	2. Steve

Tony stops talking to Steve after he confesses his feelings for him, and Steve feels a little bit like he’s lost a limb.

Steve cares about Tony a lot, and he’d known that before the whole ordeal, but in Tony’s absence, he’s really starting to see just how much Tony has become integrated in most aspects of his life. They study together, go to the meal hall together, and when Bruce is having a bad night, Tony will come and crash in Steve’s room. It only happens once in a while, but it’s enough for it to be familiar to Steve to open his door and find a sleepy Tony on the other side, wearing sweatpants hung low over his hips and holding a blanket around his shoulders like a cape.

It’s a classic case of absence making the heart grow stronger, and it terrifies Steve.

He doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

One thing he knows for sure is that he would have been lying if he were to say that once Tony said those words to him, all of his feelings came crashing down on him and he realized that he had been pining for Tony the entire time without even noticing.

He’s never thought of being with Tony like that before.

Would he date Tony? Maybe, but a tiny part of him is scared of probing around his feelings too much.

How can he decide that he likes Tony if there’s a possibility that he’s only feeling that way because he misses Tony’s presence in general? If he hates that he hurt Tony and wishes there was something— _anything_ —he could do to make it better?

He can’t do that to Tony. He’s already hurt him enough.

Steve knows, after seeing the way Tony’s face crumbled after he confessed and Steve stood there like a fool, unable to articulate anything that might have made the situation less painful for him, that he cannot allow himself to hurt Tony any more than he already has. He hadn’t known that he was hurting Tony, of course, but that doesn’t make it okay.

None of it is okay.

***

“Something happened with you and Tony, didn’t it?”

Steve’s head snaps up from his textbook at the sound of Bucky’s voice. Bucky is staring at him, arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised slightly in that way he always looks when he’s _expecting a damn answer Steve, now tell me what’s going on before I have to drag it outta you._

“Um.”

“Don’t um me.” Bucky narrows his eyes. “You’ve been moping for days and Tony hasn’t been in here annoying me like he does every damn day. I know something’s up.”

Steve presses his lips together in a thin line and turns away. “It’s nothing.”

“Like hell it’s nothing.”

Steve sighs. “It’s not my place to say.”

“So something did happen, then.”

“If you’re so sure something did happen, why are you bothering to ask me?”

“Because you suck at talking about your feelings and you won’t talk about it until either I make you talk about it, or you bottle up your feelings until you fuckin’ explode. Plus I’m sick of you moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

“You’ve been staring at that page for twenty minutes and you keep glaring at your phone like it personally offended you.”

Steve stays silent.

Bucky sighs. “He told you, didn’t he?”

Unable to stop himself, Steve flinches. “Told me what?”

Bucky glares.

“How would you even know about that, Buck?”

“Please.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Anyone with eyes could’ve figure it out, except for you apparently.”

Groaning, Steve drops his face into his hands. “So everyone knows?”

“Anyone who has ever spent any time with the two of you together, yeah.”

Steve grimaces. “Great.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of hilarious how oblivious you’ve been.”

“Thanks Bucky,” Steve says tiredly. “You’re really being helpful, here.”

“Any time,” Bucky responds, patting Steve’s shoulder and ignoring the look that Steve shoots at him. “Do you like him back?”

Considering the fact that it’s the first time either of them has actually addressed it in so many words that Tony likes him, Steve is quite proud of himself for not actually flinching at Bucky’s bluntness.

He doesn’t answer right away—he thinks about Tony’s eyes, Tony’s laugh, Tony’s hand on his arm. The way his heart sank when Tony walked away from him, when he didn’t answer any of his calls or texts, the moment when Steve finally realized that it was time to back away and give Tony time, no matter how much it hurt. As miserable as Steve was, he knew Tony was feeling worse.

Steve thinks about the huge hole in his life that appeared in Tony’s absence. He hadn’t realized how much of his life Tony held in his hands, those hands that were often bandaged and calloused because he was careless about his own safety when he was working. So many times Steve had grabbed Tony’s arm and sat him down, made him sit still while he disinfected a new cut. Tony would grumble and gripe the entire time, but he’d let Steve do it, say thanks after Steve finished in his own way—usually by joking about Steve’s stern _you need to take care of yourself_ face.

Tony had spent so much time in Steve’s room that it had become normal to glance over and see him curled up on Steve’s bed, napping with his tablet balancing precariously in his slackened grip because he was too stubborn to go to sleep when he was on a roll and in the middle of a project. Steve had long since lost count of how many times he’d carefully plucked the tablet out of his hand and set it aside, grabbed a blanket and tucked it around Tony. Sam would roll his eyes when he came back into the room and Steve would frantically motion for him to keep it down, Tony’s sleeping.

Steve would be lying to himself if he were to say that Tony isn’t a huge part of his life. He might have been oblivious to what part of Steve’s life Tony held, but the fact that Tony is important to him has always been indisputable.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers. He drops his face into his hands, shakes his head. “What if I say that I do and then it turns out I’m just confused because he likes me? Maybe there’s something between us but what if… what if I’m wrong? I don’t want to be wrong.”

Bucky is quiet for a long moment before he responds.

“Listen,” he says slowly. “You’re my brother and I’m always with you, y’know? But be careful with Tony. Don’t do anything until you’re completely sure that you know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“I know.”

“You’ll feel even more like shit if you hurt him again. And I’m already sick of seeing Stark sulking around all the time.”

Steve lifts his head, manages a weak smile and nudges Bucky with his elbow. “Almost seems like you care about him,” he teases.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grunts. “Don’t go tellin’ him or anything,” he grumbles.

Steve laughs. It’s feeble, but it’s the best that he can manage at the moment.

“I’m serious though,” Bucky continues. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you hurt him again, and he might be a pain in the ass, but Stark doesn’t deserve it. He put himself out there, Steve, and I know you didn’t mean to or want to, but you broke his heart. He deserves a little space. Don’t do anything impulsive… he’s already hurtin’ enough.”

Steve sighs and drops his face into his hands. It hurts to hear it, like a punch to his gut, but he knows Bucky is right. He can’t do a damn thing about this until he has his head on straight.

“You’re right,” Steve says. “I can’t hurt him again.”

“Damn right I’m right,” Bucky says, but he throws his arm around Steve, hooking it around his shoulders and pulling him into a rough hug. “In the meantime, I’m here for you, and all that sappy shit.”

“Good pep talk, Buck,” Steve says wryly.

“I give awesome pep talks, asshole. How do you think I’ve managed to keep you in one piece all these years?”

Steve snorts and shakes his head. “You’re the worst.”

Bucky shrugs and elbows Steve in the side. “And yet I’m right and you know it, punk.”

Steve reaches out to shove Bucky’s shoulder, which earns him a _I’ll take that as an admission that I’m right_ smirk from Bucky.

He settles back into his textbook then, trying to make himself focus on the words on the page rather than Tony’s crestfallen face that has been tattooed onto the back of his eyelids ever since he saw it.

***

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with you lately?”

Steve looks up sharply from where he’s been staring morosely into his coffee. The sounds of the bustling café filter into his mind as he comes back to the present and remembers where he is. Peggy had slipped off to the restroom not long ago and somehow Steve had managed to not even notice her returning.

She’s sitting across from him, one manicured nail tapping against the side of her coffee cup, a brow raised at Steve.

“Sorry, what?” Steve asks, his brows drawn together in confusion.

“Are you going to tell me what has been eating at you lately,” Peggy says slowly, curling her hand around her mug and raising it to her lips. “I’ve known you long enough to know when something is bothering you, Steve,” she continues after she’s taken a sip.

Steve tries to keep his gaze steady and neutral as he meets her eyes. 

“There’s not much to tell,” he says. It’s not a lie, really. Tony confessed his feelings for him, Steve reacted like an idiot, and he hasn’t heard from his best friend since. There’s not much to the story.

“So there _is_ something?”

Steve gives her a weak smile. “You seem convinced without me even saying anything.”

Peggy shrugs. “It seems like something is on your mind. You don’t have to tell me anything, Steve, you know I would never pressure you. But if you need someone to talk to…”

“Yeah,” Steve says, nodding. “Thank you, Peg. It’s—it’s a kind of complicated.”

She snorts and gives him a wry little smile. “Isn’t it always.”

Steve returns the smile and shrugs. “Yeah. Isn’t it always.”

They go their separate ways not long after that, after finishing their coffee and talking idly for a while. Before they go off in separate directions, Steve hugs her for a lot longer than is probably acceptable, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her arms wind around his torso and hold him close as he leans his cheek against the softness of her hair.

“You’ll figure things out, Steve,” she says. Her voice is calming and sure and he wants to believe her.

He doesn’t say anything. Just holds her close for as long as she lets him. If she notices that her shoulder is a little bit damp when he pulls away, she doesn’t say anything.

Steve is grateful.

***

It amazes Steve how easy it is to make the entire world stop in a moment of absolute, pure fear. It’s like freezing water poured over his head, unfurling cold and icy in his veins.

Bucky calls him just as he’s getting into bed with a book in hand. Steve answers the phone distractedly, already turning pages to try and find the spot where he left off last.

“I just drove Natasha to the hospital.” Bucky’s tired, worried voice pulls him into the present in an instant.

Steve frowns and drops his book, concern immediately flaring up in his belly. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, yeah she’s fine,” Bucky says dismissively. “I drove her here because… well. She got a call from the hospital saying that Tony was admitted.”

Steve’s heart quite literally skips a beat.

“What?” he rasps. He sits up ramrod straight.

“He’s going to be fine,” Bucky assures him hurriedly. “But he’s shaken up and the doctors said that he has a concussion and some major bruising on his ribs—“

“What happened, Bucky?” Steve is already grabbing his coat and keys, fumbling with his shoes with his phone jammed between his ear and his shoulder. He’s an uncoordinated mess and he can’t seem to get ready fast enough. The only thought on his mind at the moment is that Tony is injured and in the hospital, and Steve _isn’t there with him_.

“He got mugged,” Bucky says. He sighs. “Look, Steve, he’s going to be fine—“

“I’m on my way,” Steve cuts in, slamming his door shut behind him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Steve hangs up then and shoves his phone into his pocket. For a moment he almost considers running all the way there, but then quickly decides against it. Yes, he could do it, but it would take unnecessarily long and he wants to be with Tony as quickly as possible.

He gets a cab, which takes far too long to get to him, and spends the entire ride to the hospital drumming his fingers impatiently on his knee. By the time they pull up to the building, he’s practically jumping out of his skin. He really can’t afford to just pass the driver a wad of bills that definitely amounts to far too much money, but he can’t really find it in himself to care. The driver says something to him about it being more than the ride costs, but he only registers it blurrily in the back of his mind as he waves it off. The only concern in his mind right now is getting inside and finding Tony.

He only has to stop once when looking for the waiting area Bucky texts him directions to. Bucky and Natasha are sitting in the hard, uncomfortable looking hospital chairs, their heads ducked together over Bucky’s phone, talking quietly. They both look tired, judging by the slump of their shoulders and the way that Natasha seems to be leaning on Bucky, as if she needs his support to stay upright.

“How is he?” Steve asks as he approaches.

They look up at him at the sound of his voice, Bucky flashing him a quick smile in greeting.

“He’s fine, they’re just keeping him in for the night. Observation or whatever.” Bucky expression goes a bit more somber as he continues. “He’s got a concussion and bruised ribs and they want to keep an eye on him, but he’s free to go in the morning.”

Steve’s stomach lurches at Tony’s injuries. Swallowing thickly, he drops into the chair next to Natasha. “Well that’s… kind of good news, I guess. What about the mugger?”

“Police were just here to take a statement from him. But you know how these things go.” Natasha shrugs.

Steve nods mutely.

“Bruce is on his way and I gotta go call Rhodey.” Bucky stands up, phone in hand, the other still loosely clasped around Natasha’s. “You want anything? I can stop by the cafeteria.”

“Coffee,” Natasha replies, gives him a brief, grateful smile and squeezes his fingertips before letting go.

“Gottit. Steve?”

“I’m fine. Thanks, Buck.” Steve’s so jittery right now, he’s fairly certain that adding a rush of caffeine to his bloodstream wouldn’t exactly help matters. He’s wide awake anyways, despite the late hour. Worry sparks in his veins, makes his fingers twitch where they rest on his knee. Steve’s never been good with sitting still in situations like this—he doesn’t really need yet another reason to feel like he’s going to jump out of his skin.

Bucky nods and starts walking away, phone already up to his ear as he disappears down the hallway.

Natasha sighs and leans back in her chair, tipping her head back against the wall.

Steve settles back into his chair and slings a comforting arm over her shoulder. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Yeah. You can go in and see him too after—oh.”

Natasha trails off at the sound of a door opening and another person appearing around the corner and entering the small waiting room.

The last thing Steve is expecting is to see a certain Rumiko Fujikawa standing there in front of him.

Steve isn’t sure why, but suddenly his throat is dry and his fists clench at his sides. His whole body is taut with tension.

When she notices him, she stops dead in her tracks and, well, outright glares at him.

Which makes absolutely no sense, because he was pretty sure they had never had a falling out. They hadn’t exactly been good friends or anything, but they exchanged civil words back when she and Tony had been dating. They never knew each other well enough—Steve didn’t think so, at least—to warrant the daggers that she’s glaring at him right now.

“Steve,” she says shortly.

“Hi, Rumiko.”

She’s wearing a leather jacket and a displeased expression, her dark eyes narrowed and completely focused on Steve as she approaches him.

“You’re here to see Tony?” she asks by way of greeting. She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at him.

“Yes,” Steve answers shortly. “I didn’t realize you two were still friends.”

“Funny,” she says, faux cheerfully, her smile made cold by the sharpness of her gaze. “I was about to say the same about you.”

Steve’s mouth opens to respond, but then he immediately realizes that he pretty much has no answer. He doesn’t even know if he and Tony are friends anymore. Hell, Tony might refuse to see him for all he knows.

Too late, he realizes that this means he’s pretty much standing there with his mouth gaping open like a fish. He snaps his mouth shut and presses his lips together in a thin line.

“Be nice to him,” she says. “See you, Natasha.”

“Bye, Rumiko,” Natasha says from behind Steve.

With that, Rumiko’s gaze lingers on Steve for a long moment before she turns on her heel and walks away, the soft thud of her footsteps fading away as she makes her way down the hallway.

“So,” Steve says grimly. “She hates me, then.”

“Nah,” Natasha says, sounding rather disinterested. “She’s just worried about Tony.”

“Do you think she knows about…”

Steve trails off and glances over at Natasha. She watches him expectantly, one eyebrow quirked up as she waits. Clearly, she isn’t going to fill in the blank for him, even though she clearly knows what he’s talking about. Bucky has never been good at keeping secrets from his girlfriend.

He sighs heavily. “Do you think she knows about what happened between me and Tony?”

“Yes.”

“What? Did she tell you?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t know for sure?”

“No, but I’m fairly good at making educated guesses.”

Steve remains silent, staring in the direction that Rumiko had disappeared in.

“Are they getting back together?” Steve asks quietly. He’s not sure why the possibility makes his chest tighten. If they are, shouldn’t he be happy for Tony? Steve knows that Tony cared about her very much, and that their break up devastated him. Despite all that’s happened between them, Steve still cares about Tony and wants him to be happy.

So why does seeing Rumiko here make him so sad?

 “Ask Tony.”

“But—“

“She’s the least of your concerns right now, Steve.” Natasha steps up beside him and places a hand on his shoulder. “You should go in and talk to him.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’re here, Steve. Why else would you come?”

“I wanted to make sure that he’s okay.”

“You could have done that over the phone.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “That’s not the same.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Natasha agrees. “That’s why you need to go in and see him.”

“Natasha—“

“Steve, he’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want you there, he is more than capable of telling you to get your ass in gear and leave him alone.”

Steve’s frown deepens. “I know.”

 “Then talk to him.” Natasha levels him with a stern look and nudges him gently but firmly towards Tony’s door. “You came all the way down here to just sit in the waiting room? You could have done that at home, Steve, and I have a feeling it will make both of you feel better if Tony knows that you came down here to see him.”

“I don’t think he wants to see me, Natasha.“

“If he doesn’t, he can tell you so himself,” Natasha repeats. She nudges him again and Steve gives her a frosty look that she ignores. “Don’t make his choices for him, Steve. You want to talk to him, so _try_.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest again, but Natasha narrows her eyes and glares at him, and his mouth snaps shut. He’s known Natasha for many years, which means that he is well acquainted with that expression. It means that he’s going to get absolutely nowhere by arguing with her.

He lets out a sigh and holds up his hands in defeat. “Fine,” he says tightly.

Satisfied, Natasha gives him a small smile and pats his shoulder. “Good.”

Steve grimaces at her as she slips away, crossing the room to sit down in one of the waiting room chairs and very pointedly pulls a book out of her bag. Her body language screams _“I’m going to be here for a while, so you better get on with it”._ Ever so subtle, as always.

The deep breath he takes in doesn’t do a whole lot to calm his nerves, but he forces himself to move forward anyways, not allowing himself to hesitate at the door.

He walks in and almost stumbles, because the rush of absolute relief that courses through his body is completely unexpected.

It’s been weeks since he saw Tony, and he’d known that he missed him, but he doesn’t realize just how _much_ he’s missed him until he lays eyes on him and he feels his breath stick in his throat.

Tony’s sitting up in the bed, his legs pulled up towards his chest under the thin sheets, his eyes narrowed at the tablet he has resting against his knees. He looks worse for wear, as should be expected. Going by what Natasha and Bucky told him, Steve already knew the mugger hadn’t exactly gone easy on him, but it still makes something protective and angry flare up in his chest at the sight of physical evidence that someone had hurt Tony. He looks tired, the side of his face is bruised and there’s a frighteningly large portion of his arm that is bandaged, but he’s whole and so beautiful and _right there_ —

Steve’s thoughts stutter over “beautiful”, and he draws in a breath as he files that away as something to deal with later. Much, _much_ later.

Right now Tony deserves his full and complete attention, and he’s having a little bit of trouble catching his breath at the moment as it is.

“Natasha, you don’t have to keep checking on me, you know,” Tony grumbles without looking up from the screen in front of him.

Steve clears his throat. “Um. Not Natasha. It’s just me.”

At the sound of Steve’s voice, Tony visibly flinches. He doesn’t look up from his tablet, but Steve can see his mouth tighten and his his hand clench where it is laying on the stark white sheets.

In the tense silence that follows, Steve fights the desire to dart out of the room and not stop until he makes it out of the building. He waits with his heart in his throat for Tony to say something.

“Well,” Tony says finally. “Who called you?”

“Bucky did. Uh, Natasha was worried—“

“Even though there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well she told me you have a concussion and bruised—“

“I’m not going to die from a concussion—“

“Tony.” Steve says his name quietly but forcefully, enough so that he manages to get in a word edgewise before Tony speaks again. “You got hurt. It’s normal for your friends to worry about you.”

Tony looks away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

“So is that why you’re here?” Tony asks. His voice is soft and hesitant beneath the sarcastic veneer, and it hurts Steve more than he would have expected. He doesn’t want Tony to be nervous around him. “Because Natasha was worried?”

Steve pauses, bites his lip before speaking. “I was worried too,” he says quietly. 

Tony snorts. “Sure.”

“I was, Tony,” Steve continues, an edge of desperation in his voice. “Come on, you’re my friend—“

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“Because you were avoiding me!”

Steve feels his frustration burst forth as the words bubble up out of him on a wave of irritation. Weeks of silence from one of his best friends, after a confusing confession that left him confused and unsure of everything, missing Tony, the concern that had weighed heavily on his chest until the moment he laid eyes on Tony and could see for himself that he was alright…

“I made it easier for you,” Tony snaps. “Like you wanted to talk to me after what I said.”

“You never asked! You just stopped talking to me Tony, you didn’t even give me any time to answer—“

“And if I had, what would you have said?”

Steve stops short, his mouth gaping open. “I, uh—“

“Exactly.”

Tony doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated and sad, and he looks so small sitting in the hospital bed.

In a way, that’s a lot worse than if he were angry. At least Steve knows how to deal with an angry Tony. This… this has him at a loss.

Steve deflates, the fight draining out of him in an instant. He doesn’t want to make Tony feel worse—that’s not why he came here.

_I miss you,_ he wants to say.

_I don’t know what we are, I don’t know what I want yet, but I know not having you in my life is torture._

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, because that’s really all he can say. It’s what Tony deserves to hear.

Tony shrugs stiffly. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

Steve sighs. This conversation is going absolutely nowhere, and seems to be doing nothing more than agitating Tony more. “I can leave, if you want.”

“It’s fine.” Tony says it uncertainly, as if he’s trying to convince himself. He huffs out a breath. “You came all the way down here. I—I appreciate it.”

Steve lifts one shoulder, dismissing the gratitude because honestly, it was the least he could do. “Any time,” he answers, and he means it.

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off when a nurse comes bustling into the room and makes her way over to Tony’s bed.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, reaching for the bandages on Tony’s right arm with skilled fingers. “This will only take a minute.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Tony says quickly, flashing her a smile.

“I’ll wait in the hall,” Steve says. The nurse nods distractedly, her attention completely on Tony, but Tony gives him a small nod and a tight lipped smile.

Steve nods back, and closes the door gently behind him.

“How’d it go?”

Natasha is still sitting where Steve left her, her face buried in a magazine. She doesn’t even look up at Steve, and he’s kind of grateful for this because he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t want anyone to witness whatever his face is doing at this particular moment.

“Well,” he says slowly. “He didn’t throw me out.”

She nods. “Well, that’s a start.”

Steve huffs and crosses the room to sit next to her. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s a start.”

*******

Despite his grumbling, Tony doesn’t tell Steve to leave him alone, and so Steve doesn’t. There’s a kind of unspoken truce between the two of them; Steve asks if Tony wants him to leave him alone again, and Tony shrugs noncommittally and says “you can stay if you want”, like it doesn’t matter to him what Steve does.

So Steve stays, and Tony lets him. Steve knows that it’s more than he can expect and more than he deserves, so he happily takes what he can get.

Things don’t go back to normal—not right away at least. The tension lingers between them, heavy and thick at first. At first it’s like they’re nervous to be around each other. Steve is all too conscious of his hands, obsesses over how often it’s appropriate to text Tony, how much space he should put between them when they sit next to each other. Tony seems to feel the same way, often covering up awkward moments with his rambling, or just making excuses and leaving. Steve doesn’t stop him. He knows that they both just need time.

They heal together. First, Steve worries over Tony and keeps an eye on him when he gets out of the hospital, but soon after that he stops using that as an excuse and is up front with the fact that he wants to spend time with Tony again. Reluctantly, Tony allows it.

The tension between them dissipates slowly over time. In its place, warmth and familiarity begins to grow again. It’s quiet and gradual—there’s no moment where Steve is struck with a revelation of how things are going back to where they were.

Instead, it builds with small moments where Steve realizes that Tony doesn’t shy away when Steve walks shoulder to shoulder to him, or when he slips into Steve’s room and immediately goes to his old spot on Steve’s bed where he’ll mumble to himself and type furiously on his laptop for hours. There are moments where Steve thoughtlessly throws an arm over Tony’s shoulder, and is about to back off quickly and apologize when he realizes that Tony isn’t pulling away from him, is still distractedly waving his hands and talking at a mile a minute.

The problem is, Steve isn’t quite sure what exactly it is that he’s feeling for Tony, but ever since he ran to the hospital to Tony’s bedside, his confusion about his feelings for Tony have started becoming a little bit more clear to him, and he’s becoming aware that they might not be as platonic as he might have thought.  

It doesn’t take that long before Steve starts becoming more and more sure that he and Tony might have been on the road to something more before Tony had even brought anything up.

The confusion and doubt is still there, because what if Steve is wrong about how he’s feeling? What if he loves Tony as a friend and is tricking himself into feeling these things because he knows now that it will make Tony happy? He’s terrified of hurting Tony again, of the thought of losing him again.

The truth is, though, there’s a larger part of him that knows he wants something more than friendship with Tony. He thinks about holding Tony’s hand and knows that Tony’s fingers tangled in his own would feel so right. He thinks about kissing Tony, about touching the dip of his waist and holding him close, and something warm and burning with want sparks in his belly. He thinks about holding Tony and is sure that the curve of his body would fit perfectly against Steve’s, that he would be warm and soft and _real_ in Steve’s arms.

Steve can’t lie to himself. There are things that he’s unsure of, yes, and he has doubts, but one thing is for certain: he wants to be with Tony. He wants to find out what they could be together, wants to know what it’s like to be the person to make him happy.

The thing is, Steve is an idiot. First, it has taken him so long to realize it. Second, instead of waiting until a good time to speak with Tony about his feelings like a rational adult, he blurts it out in a moment of absolute idiocy.

Tony catches him off guard.

They’re in the lab, the first time since things fell apart that Tony has invited Steve to tag along and watch him work because he has something exciting that he wants to show Steve.

Steve finds himself unable staring at him. He’s so beautiful and perfect here in his element, so elegant in his own way, making magic with his precise calculations and welded metal. His hair is ruffled, sticking out around his face because of the goggles he has pushed up on top of his head. His hands and arms are smudged with grease, and he’s dressed in a ratty band t-shirt and jeans that hang low over his hips, a sliver of red peeking out from underneath.

Tony has, objectively, looked a lot better than this. Steve has seen him dressed up in a suit and in that leather jacket that drives guys and girls alike insane.

Despite this, Steve thinks that Tony has never looked so perfect. He’s beautiful right now—Steve is transfixed by the ease with which he moves, his hands graceful and sure in a way that makes Steve wonder what those hands would feel like against his skin.

When Tony notices Steve’s eyes on him, he looks up with this curious half smile curling at the corners of his mouth, Steve’s mind goes blank. Tony’s smiling at him, and in that moment he wants nothing more than he wants Tony to smile at him like that every day.

So, when Tony asks “what are you staring at me like that for, Rogers?”, Steve responds with “I think we should date”.

Which isn’t exactly the smartest thing he’s ever said.

Tony’s response is absolute silence, followed by a dead, flat “what?”, which Steve answers by flushing bright red and, realizing that there’s no backing out of the situation at this point, stammers out that he likes Tony and wants to try dating.

Steve’s heart is going to pound out of his chest.

Tony is frowning, his brows furrowed and his mouth pressed tight in an unhappy, uncertain line. Steve wants to wipe the expression off of his face, banish it and make sure it never returns. He wants to press his lips to that frown and kiss it away until not a bit of it remains, wants to smooth his fingers over the frown lines that have etched into his face.

Now that he’s allowing himself to think these things, it overwhelms him. He wants it so badly, hates himself for depriving them both of each other’s touch for so long.

But Steve knows he owes it to Tony to wait and not push him, so Steve stays perfectly still and waits for Tony to speak.

“Are you saying that because you think it will make me happy?” Tony says eventually, his voice tight. He doesn’t sound angry, but his voice is thick with tension. Mostly he just sounds tired. “I don’t need your pity, Steve.”

Steve’s heart sinks a little bit. “It’s not pity, Tony.”

Tony snorts and backs away slightly. Steve has to fight the urge to follow him and gather him in his arms and tug him in tightly against his chest.

He manages to resist, but with great effort.

“Then what is it, Steve?” he snaps. He crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes.

“I’m telling the truth,” Steve says, keeping his voice level and measured. “I know it’s bad timing.”

Tony scoffs and spreads his hands. “Bad timing? Steve, bad timing would have been forever ago. This is literally the worst conceivable timing in existence.”

“I know,” Steve says miserably.

“You don’t actually like me like that.” It sounds like it should be a question, but Tony chokes over the words it like it’s a statement, like it’s a painful truth that burns in his throat.

“Tony, please,” Steve pleads. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I didn’t say you’re lying. I just think you’re… confused.”

Steve shakes his head sharply. “I was confused. I don’t think I am anymore.”

“You don’t _think?_ ” Tony’s eyes flash with irritation. “God damn it, Steve, this isn’t a game!”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant… I.” Steve stops short, anxiously rakes a hand through his hair, as if to mask the fact that his hands might be shaking a little bit. “Tony, please.”

Tony sighs. It’s quiet—a soft, desolate sound that makes Steve’s heart ache.

“Steve. What do you want?”

“I don’t know.” He says honestly. Tony flinches, but Steve plows on. “All I know is that I can’t get you out of my head. There’s something between us and… and I might not know what it is yet, but I want to figure it out with you.”

Tony stays silent, waiting, watching.

Steve sucks in a deep breath and continues.

“But I do know that this is more than friendship between us. What I’m feeling is more than friendship.”

Steve dares to take a step closer to Tony, moving to bridge the gap between them.

“I want to try, Tony,” Steve says, soft and firm. “I don’t know where this will go but I know that I want more with you. I know that being with you makes sense. I know that I missed you like crazy when you left. I know that something was there between us for a long time and I was too thick headed to realize it. I want to fix that.”

Another step. Tony doesn’t back away.

“You don’t owe me anything, Tony, but I know I’d regret it forever if I never took a chance to find out what we could be. Together.”

Tony is staring at him with apprehensive eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I’m completely helpless when it comes to you, Steve,” he says roughly. “If don’t mean this...”

“I do mean it.”

“If you don’t mean this, and change your mind later…” Tony pauses, his eyes flick away for a moment as he draws in a shuddering breath. He meets Steve’s gaze again with his red rimmed eyes and Steve feels his heart lurch in his chest. “You would absolutely ruin me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Tony.”

Tony shakes his head and gives Steve a sad little smile. “I don’t think you wanted to hurt me the first time, Steve,” he says softly. “But it happened. I’m telling you this because I don’t think that I’ll be able to come back from this a second time.”

Steve swallows thickly. He has to play this right.

“I understand.” Gently, Steve curves his hands over Tony’s cheeks, his fingers seeking out the warmth of his skin as he leans in. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, trying his best to keep his voice quiet and undemanding.

Tony hesitates for just a fraction of a moment, and Steve is just about to back off and pull his hands away, when Tony gives him a jerky nod.

So Steve leans in, and he graciously takes what he is given.

The initial press of their lips is soft and understated, as though both of them are still too nervous to completely throw themselves into it. Steve feels how tentative Tony is, how he doesn’t quite relax into the kiss right away. He’s open and willing, but not yet enthusiastically participating.

That just simply won’t do, Steve decides.

He presses into Tony more insistently, dropping his arms to Tony’s waist and tugging him in close in one smooth, firm movement. He feels Tony’s surprised exhalation against his lips as he parts his own, moving his mouth against Tony’s.

Steve feels the exact moment that Tony lets go of the tension he’s holding in his body starts to really and truly reciprocate. His hands find a place to rest at the back of Steve’s neck as he steps in closer, into the circle of Steve’s embrace, and leans into him. Chest to chest, Tony seems to find his stride and starts to plunder Steve’s mouth, hauling him in close and making Steve go weak kneed at the warmth of his mouth.

It’s not long before Tony is clearly the one taking the lead, kissing Steve senseless like he’s been waiting to do this for his entire life, like he could devour Steve right then and there.

Steve hadn’t realized just how much he’d wanted this. He’d been aching for Tony to touch him like this and he hadn’t even realized it. Tony’s mouth on his, his hands in his hair and his body against his own—Steve had been missing out on this. He could have had this long ago and he had been stupid and slow on the uptake, but now he has it and he can do nothing but let Tony take and take.

Through the muddled haze of his thoughts, he thinks that at this moment, Tony could take just about anything from him and Steve wouldn’t hesitate to give it to him.

By the time that Tony finally pulls away, Steve is dazed and thoroughly kissed. He makes an embarrassing little whining noise that he can’t really manage to be embarrassed about, which makes Tony break out into a grin as he releases Steve from the embrace.

“Turned on is a good look on you, Rogers,” he smirks.

“I’m not—“ Steve stops when he realizes how shrill and shaky his voice sounds and clears his throat. “I mean, I am, but it’s not—it’s not just that.”

Tony’s smile turns softer, and he leans in again to press his lips to Steve’s again briefly. “I know,” he murmurs. “Same.”

Steve lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh but not quite. An exhalation of disbelief, is what he should probably call it. He could have had this long ago, why had he taken so long to see it?

“I’m sorry,” he says, dropping his hands to Tony’s waist, cupping his palms over his hip bones. “I’m sorry I didn’t get my shit together sooner.”

“Me too,” Tony says with a wry little smile. He reaches up and winds his arms around Steve’s neck and shrugs. “Nothing we can do about it now though, so you’ll just have to make up for it.”

“Oh?” Steve raises his brows. “How?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Tony leans in, hovering just over Steve’s mouth and gives him a little smirk that makes Steve’s heart jump. “I think we can think of a way.”

Steve can feel his cheeks flush as he makes a small noise in his throat and dives in. Tony kisses him like he’s giving Steve the world, and Steve takes it all with great care and gives Tony everything he has.


End file.
